


The Far Cry

by Stardragon773



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Bilingual, Bullying, Draco Malfoy Speaks French, Drarry, Eventual Smut, M/M, Running, Top! Draco, cursing, swears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 23:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14389263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stardragon773/pseuds/Stardragon773
Summary: What do you do when you become a monster and you love it?





	The Far Cry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A good friend of mine](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=A+good+friend+of+mine).



> The concept of Werewolf Draco was a tumblr post and i liked it so i wrote this. Have fun reading!

He snorted as he sprinted past the tall trees in the forbidden forest. He kicked off stumps and trunks of the trees that looked like they were stitched together. It was dark, impossible to see.  
For a human that is.  
His eyes bounced to the limbs in the sky to a Thestral that was grazing with his filly on the ground.  
He kept his silvery gray eyes forward.  
It was almost time. He felt it rattle his bones and made his head feel high. His blonde hair stuck out behind him as wind whipped past him. He aroused leaves and small wildlife from his raging run.  
He wasn't tired yet. There would be time for that later.  
He could see the light up ahead. The hoards of Doxys, lux locitos, and his personal favorite; fireflies lit the small clearing. He dove forward in the miniature field of lavender, It was wild. All of it. The vibrant colors of purple shown in the moonlight. He remembered blasting a hole in the canopy.  
Remembered how he waved the green willow branches together.  
The ground he hollowed out for himself. Brought the bugs in, put the protection spells up, and trimmed the flowers.  
Then it began. The moon hitting him head-on.  
His face always hurt the worst.  
The way the wolf burst out of him.  
His nails turning into black talons.  
The way hair sprouted out of his back.  
The familiar way his clothes were ripped off.  
He never thought he would love it.  
He let his body go, and allow it contort into a more accurate form.  
A werewolf.


End file.
